


Same Old, Same Old

by Ruuger



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s09e02 The Witch's Familiar, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 17:23:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17853914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuger/pseuds/Ruuger
Summary: A bit of shameless h/c set right after "Witch's Familiar" ends.





	Same Old, Same Old

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Hybrid zine.

The Tardis faded away and then reappeared before Clara had even time to be annoyed at the Doctor for leaving her behind again. She waited for a few seconds in case he came out to get her, but when the doors to the Tardis remained closed, she quickly ran across the rocky terrain to the police box. 

She found the Doctor standing by console, his hands busy with the buttons and levers. He turned to glance at her over his shoulder when she entered.

"Sorry, I hope you didn't have to wait too long," he said as a way of hello before returning his attention to the console. "I tried to get back the moment I left."

"It was fine," Clara said, too tired to even be angry at him. All she wanted was to get back home, crawl into her bed, wearing her own pajamas, and just stay there with a cup of tea and the latest episode of something utterly brainless on Netflix. She snapped her fingers to close the doors and leaned on the railing by the stairs. "Where did you go?"

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders. "A mission of mercy, you might say," he said absently, still busying himself with whatever he was doing. He reached to pull the big lever, and then suddenly stopped with his hand in mid-movement before quickly turning around to face her. His hands automatically reached for the pocket where he kept the cards that she'd made her, and she knew from the panicky look on his face that he'd finally realised that _he'd left her behind on Skaro._

He crossed the room with a few quick strides. 

"Oh. Sorry, so sorry. Are you okay?"

He hesitated for a second when he reached her, and then gently touched the side of her face where the Dalek connectors had been attached. When his fingers brushed her skin she flinched at the memory of Missy's hands on her temples, and the Dalek casing closing around her. He misunderstood her reaction and quickly took a step back, his hands frozen in the air and his expression a mixture of fear and shame. 

Clara tried to give him a reassuring smile, but suspected that it came out more like a grimace. "It's okay, I'm fine. Still in the land of the living, still not a Dalek, so it's all good." 

He frowned, looking at her like she'd just said something strange, his hands still hovering in the air near her face. It was like his brain had put the rest of him on a power saving mode while it was working on a particularly difficult equation and Clara couldn't help but smile. She took his hands into hers and gently pushed them back down. That seemed to reboot his brain.

"Clara-" he started, but she shook her head.

"I really am okay. A little shaken and bruised, but nothing a hot bath and a KitKat can't fix."

He gave her small smile. "Can I just..." he said, and gestured at her face.

When she nodded, he gently touched her face again, his fingers tracing her hairline as if he was looking for something. She didn't even want to think what it might be.

"How about you? Are you okay?" she asked, partly to distract herself from thinking about the Dalek, and partly because now that he was standing right in front of her, it was quite obvious to her that he was even less okay than she was. He looked more tired than he had when she'd last seen him, like he hadn't slept for weeks, and there was a light dusting of dirt on his hair and clothes. His hands were warmer than usual, and she could feel them tremble as he studied her injuries.

He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. "Fine," he said absentmindedly as he gently turned her head to the side. "Fine, fine."

As he spoke Clara felt a strange sensation of her skin where he was touching her, like a sudden warmth flowing from his fingertips. It was like the feeling of dipping into a warm bath after a long day, all her aches and pains suddenly disappearing.

The Doctor took a step back, his eyebrows knitting to a confused frown. "Oh." 

He looked down at his hands and when Clara followed his gaze, she saw that there was a faint golden glow emanating from his fingers. He stared at it for a moment, and then closed his eyes. He squeezed his hand in a fist and the glow vanished.

Clara remembered seeing the same glow back when he'd changed faces, but also that she'd seen it surrounding the Daleks back on Skaro. She suddenly felt horror chill her insides as she connected the dots. 

She grabbed the Doctor's arm.

"Doctor! What did you do to the Daleks?"

The Doctor shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "Davros wanted to drain me of my regeneration energy, but I rerouted the machinery, gave it to the sewers instead." He stared at his hand again, blinking rapidly. "I think I may have overdone it a bit."

He rubbed his eyes, and then reached for the railing for support as his legs began to wobble. His hand missed the rail, and Clara quickly wrapped her arms around his waist to keep him from falling flat on his face. He was too heavy for her to support and all she could do was slow him down as he collapsed into a tangle of limbs on the floor, taking her with him. 

Trying to contain her growing panic, Clara carefully helped the Doctor to a more comfortable position on the floor and then shook his shoulder. "Regeneration energy? Doctor, you're not going to regenerate, are you?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, no, of course not," he said, and then went quiet for a moment. "At least I hope I won't," he added.

Clara considered her options. A moment ago she'd felt like crashing herself, but now she could have taken on the world. Even the lingering nag of a headache was gone, and she suspected that he'd unintentionally healed her injuries with his leaking regeneration energy. Was this what Davros had wanted from him? She trusted that the Doctor was telling her the truth about his condition and didn't need any kind of medical help, but she was also fairly certain that he wasn't strong enough to get to his bedroom, even with her help. 

She sighed and straightened her legs from where they were trapped underneath him, and then wrapped her arms around the Doctor and pulled him closer. He went tense at first, but then allowed her to position him so that he was now leaning against her chest.

"Stupid idiot. Why would you do something like that?"

The Doctor was quiet for a moment before answering. "I had to know if he was telling the truth. I thought it might be a trap, but I... I had to be sure." He looked up at her, and there was something about the look in his eyes that made her heart ache. "And I thought that if I went along with it, they'd tell me what happened to you. I- I had to know that you-" 

Clara didn't let him finish. She gently shushed him and then wrapped her arms tighter around him, pressing her cheek into his hair. She could smell smoke and dust and blood, and she wondered where he'd been. But that was a question for another day.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, not really. I just need to rest for a bit." 

"I thought you always said that sleeping was for porpoises. Or was is tortoises? Do porpoises even sleep?" She was babbling, making jokes as a distraction to keep them both from thinking about what had happened on Skaro, about Davros and the Daleks and the regeneration energy. About Missy and how she’d almost killed her. She'd learned that from him. When he didn't reply, she moved her hand so that it rested at his pulse point where she could feel the reassuring twin rhythm of his hearts. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"It's nothing, just like having a bit of a cold. Maybe some future me won't have legs or something, but that's okay. I think I have some extra legs in a wardrobe somewhere." He was already drifting to sleep, his voice quiet and slurring. "Or maybe I burned it all, all my future faces, and this one is the last." He sighed. "That would be nice. Not changing again." He looked up, suddenly worried. "Unless you want me to change?"

Clara smiled and kissed his hair. "Silly old man. There's nothing about you that I'd want to change." She shifted her legs so that she was able to sit more comfortably against the console, and then closed her own eyes. "Everything is exactly like I want it to be. Just the Doctor and Clara in the Tardis. Every Wednesday at five o'clock, until I'm 100 years old."


End file.
